You know you are in trouble when:

a) you look like this and you are not Christopher Hitchens or have his budget for scotch...

b) The copy of A Christmas Carol you were supposed to read to your partner before going to sleep has been shoved in a conspicuous and less than comfortable place...

c) You realize that, I swear to God, I only had one chin when I left the house this morning.

d) This post has very little to do with rock and or roll or Toronto.

e) I look even worse in profile:

That's it, I'm going back to the beard.

Oh, remind me to tell you how I infiltrated the Scientologist and, sort of, got away.

This is where things start to get incoherent:

I love Art Brut and I don't (but I sort of do) care what Pitchforkmedia thinks of it.

God, I'm the lucky one,

came in at 3:15, again.

So happy christmas, I love ya baby.

What a surprise, I was right.

To you and yours at this time of year.

I simply wish you a very Scouser Christmas.

Brilliant

¶ 3:37 AM